The Writer & The Professor
by jbird669
Summary: During a awards gala in her honor, Lara Croft and an unlikely ally join forces to prevent the theft of an artifact from the British Museum.


The Writer & The Professor

by Jason Prugar

She wanted nothing more than to tear her evening gown from her body.

Yes, it would cause a stir among the hundreds of people gathered at the British Museum, but that mattered little to the Countess of Abbingdon. She ached to be free of the restrictive bonds of the form-fitting dress. She'd much rather be training in her favorite turquoise tank top and khaki shorts.

That behavior wasn't fitting of a member of the royal family, so Lara Croft decided against it; especially since she was being honored for her family's contributions to the museum. This award was mainly for her father, Earl Richard Heshingly Croft. He'd been generous in his donations, even in death. Earl Croft had bequeathed various artifacts, many of which pained Lara to part with. She'd decided long ago that the best way to protect the treasures she uncovered was to put them in a place only she knew of. Having them at Croft Estate was the only logical choice, especially since anyone else who might know about her possessing the artifacts wound up dead.

Lara helped herself to a drink from a passing waiter and sipped it. She took a moment to absorb the beauty of the museum's renowned Reading Room. It been a while since she last visited, but she was glad she got to see it one last time before they closed it for renovations on New Year's Eve. The architecture and scope of the domed glass ceiling impressed her, a remarkable feat for someone who regularly visited exotic locales thought only to exist in myth. She was happy they were taking time to clean it up and ready it for the upcoming millennium celebration.

It was the only reason she agreed to attend. She wasn't much into the pomp and circumstance that accompanied her royal title. It gave Lara a chance to once again see some of the relics her father once owned and remind her of the stories he'd tell about them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a hunched over man relying on a cane. There were more than a few of them in the room, but what caught Lara's attention was the fedora on his head and that he was staring at her. Lara walked toward exhibits on display for tonight's gala. They featured Egyptian pieces she'd seen many times; various statues and pieces depicting gods. But it gave her a way to spy on the old-timer without him noticing.

Lara got a good look at the man. His face was weathered, but she gathered he was attractive in his youth. He wore an eye patch over his right eye and glasses over that. She detected a scar on his chin, though it was hard to see with his wrinkles. He moved with a slow grace. Probably just another old man glancing at her figure.

Lara paused to admire some of the smaller pieces in the room. They didn't look familiar. She chided herself for not knowing what they were, other than being from the eleventh dynasty in China. She made a mental note to do some research on the period. There could be some artifacts worth pursuing. It might make a good vacation to celebrate her thirtieth birthday.

Her focus turned to the security guards standing by the south lifts of the Reading Room. They were very attentive to the guests. She found it odd that they were watching them so intently. They also appeared ready for a fight. Many of the guards she came across were bored and lazy.

Lara wished Dr. Watson would hurry up and start the ceremony. She wanted to get home and try out Winston's new training simulation. Besides, if she had to listen to Dr. Watson's story about his Ph.D. and his subsequent connection to Sherlock Holmes one more time…

Lara was startled by a quiet "excuse me" behind her. She jumped and turned to see the old man in the fedora. Lara was angry for allowing herself to be snuck up on. If that happened here, what would happen to her in a cave in Tanzania?

The man stepped back, removed his fedora and bowed. "Forgive me, Lady Croft," he said. "I'm sorry that I startled you. I just wanted to offer my congratulations. I was an acquaintance of your father's."

"Thank you. How did you know my father?"

The old man paused for a moment, averting his gaze. Lara wasn't sure if he was fondly reminiscing or preparing himself to share bad news.

"We both share a passion for archaeology," the man replied. "We worked in the field together a few times."

Lara smiled, but she got the sense he was hiding something. She offered her hand, but instead of shaking it, he kissed it. Lara enjoyed that. Chivalry was lost in the last twentieth century, and she was glad to come in contact with someone who had remembered it.

"I do appreciate you coming by. I am sorry, but I didn't catch your name."

The old man smiled. "Oh, pardon me. I am –"

His name was drown out by a robust "Excuse me" on a microphone behind him. The voice belonged to Dr. Terrence Watson, the Museum's curator.

He stood on a ready-made platform brought in for the occasion. He was the poster child for academia: tweed jacket, canbauer and a bowtie. But what he lacked in style he made up for with passion and an infectious smile.

He waited for the guests to congregate around the platform.

"Good evening. I'm Dr. Watson, curator of the British Museum. We are here tonight to honor the kindness, time and generosity afforded us by the Croft family." The crowd's hearty applause made Lara nod.

"As you know, the British Museum is revered not only in the Commonwealth, but around the world, for its diversity and the prestige of its collection. Tonight we thank a woman and her family for helping us attain that lofty honor. Countess Lara Croft, on behalf of myself and the Museum Board of Directors, I present you with this award, for you and your family's generous support of the British Museum."

The guest's applause was deafening as Lara stepped to the podium. She smiled as she accepted the award and shook Dr. Watson's hand.

"He'd be very proud of you," Watson said in her ear.

Lara smiled and waved to the guests, including the old man in the fedora, who was in front of the crowd.

She looked back at the South lift. The security guards had disappeared into the exhibits. They had resumed their boredom. Turning out to be a good night after all, she mused.

She stepped to the microphone. "Dr. Watson, Distinguished members of the board and esteemed guests, thank you. I am deeply honored to accept this award. As you know, my father was a big fan of this museum. My first exposure to the world of archaeology was many of the artifacts in this very room. They have also given me some of my fondest memories. My father would be touched, as I am, to receive this."

Lara experienced the unusual feeling of welling up as she looked at the trophy. It took an abnormal about of focus for her to suppress it.

"I am also glad that I was able to assist the museum in their renovation of the Reading Room. As we close the door on 1996, I look forward to the new treasures that find their way here for all of us to enjoy. Thank you."

The crowd applauded as she greeted the Board members. When she stepped off the podium, the old man was the first to greet her.

"Congratulations, Milady," he said.

"Thank you."

He stepped aside, which seemed to take forever for a man of his age (Lara guessed mid-nineties). It was at least long enough to allow other guests to crowd her and offer congratulations, which meant she had to stay longer than anticipated.

Lara greeted everyone who wished to meet with her with a smile. When the crowd dissipated, she found the nearest seat, grabbed a drink and removed her shoes. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. These events were more grueling than a trek through the jungles of Peru. The thrill of finding something lost for centuries was more fulfilling than presiding over outdated, menial ceremonies.

Lara half expected to see the old man sitting next to her when she opened her eyes but was thrilled to find herself still alone. She took that as a cue to leave.

Lara downed her drink and grabbed her shoes. She found the coat check and gave her ticket to the employee. She took the opportunity to walk around the carpet as the man retrieved her coat. It soothed her feet but not as much as sitting down. Lara admired the trophy resting on her lap.

She had numerous diamond-shaped trophies, most of which ended up as shooting targets. But this was different. It was an award for her dad as well as herself. She would cherish it.

The coat check still hadn't arrived. It was Wednesday night; perhaps a Champions League football match was on. That was no excuse. Though she hated doing it, perhaps she'd reveal she was a Countess. It usually got people moving.

Lara caught a glimpse of Dr. Watson pacing out of the corner of her eye. A security guard came over to speak with him. They whispered to one another.

Dr. Watson's knees buckled and the guard had to prop him up. Lara jumped out of the chair, worried for her friend. She put on her shoes and started for him, stopping when the old man with the fedora sauntered over to his side.

Lara stopped and watched intently at the coat check counter. She didn't see the man appear with her coat in hand.

"Pardon me, miss. Your coat?"

Lara waved a dismissive hand. "Keep it. I'll be staying a bit longer."

She ignored his subsequent protests and strutted over to the men. Dr. Watson saw her and he turned pale. The old man look distressed as well. Lara thought it might be wise to call an ambulance.

"Did someone take offense to your Sherlock Holmes story?"

"What? Oh no, no, no," Watson replied. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Is everything all right?"

"Nothing that should interfere with your celebration," Watson said.

"You look rather pale, and I —"

Watson hesitated. "Really, it's —"

"Terrence, level with me."

"The Spear of Destiny is missing," the man with the fedora interjected.

#

Lara stumbled backward, a rare occurrence. The Spear of Destiny, the lance that pierced the side of Christ, was missing.

"How do you know about that? Everyone else who does is dead," Lara said.

The old man smiled. "Not yet they're not."

"There's no – how – what's going on Terrence?"

"Lara, I'd like you to meet Dr. Henry Jones, Professor Emeritus of Marshall College and noted –"

"Archaeologist. I thought you've been dead for years."

Jones removed his hat. "Still ticking sweetheart."

Lara chuckled. Her amusement was soon replaced by thoughts of the Spear.

"How do you know of the Spear? MI6 didn't contact me about it until six months after I procured it."

"That was because you weren't the first one to find the Spear, Countess Croft," Dr. Jones said. "I found it with my father in 1945. It was taken from us in Ireland. A Nazi, Otto Nehrhorn, fled with it and took a U-boat headed to Germany."

"Somehow it ended up on a sunken U-boat off the Russian coast," Lara interjected. "Which is where I found it. But it was buried in the sea when Admiral Yorofev went down with his sub."

Dr. Watson pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped beads of sweat from his face. "MI6 recovered it with Indy's help, just before RARITEES got it."

"RARITEES?" Lara asked.

"RARITEES is an international grassroots organization of radicals opposed to archaeology. Their aim is to keep or return archaeological relics to their initial resting places. Their name is an acronym for Returning Archaeological Relics to their Intended Territories, Elements, Environments and Sovereignties."

"They started out as a group to petition nations to preserve dig sits and keep relics in the countries of origin," Jones continued.

"But rumor has it they are now backed by dictators and rich people with terrorist sympathies bent on keeping relics from being soiled by the West," Watson relayed.

Lara took a moment to soak this in. If this was true, then this group was a threat. Many artifacts could be lost. And with dictators and terrorists involved, loss of life was a strong possibility.

"How do we know it was stolen and not just misplaced?"

"MI6 informed all of the museum curators of the threat, but the plans put in place are hard to augment because RARITEES is independent and underground," Watson answered.

"Pardon me for asking, Dr. Jones," Lara continued, "but how do you fit into all of this?"

"Watson appreciates my 97 years of knowledge and experience, Your Highness."

"Please call me Lara, Dr. Jones. And that still doesn't explain how this involves you."

Dr. Jones straightened as best he could. "Young lady, I've fought in two World Wars. I've battled Soviets and Nazis for some of the most prized artifacts in history. I think I might have an idea of how RARITEES could operate."

"Oh." Watson chuckled quietly. Lara took Dr. Jones for another academic like Watson. She clearly misjudged the man.

"And please, call me Indy."

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

"Well," Dr. Watson said, "I was going to survey the Spear's display and see what clues I could gather."

"Terrence," Lara said.

"I know, Lara, but it's your night. I didn't presume –"

"Terrence, you know how I feel about pomp and circumstance."

"Very well. I didn't want to impose. Indy, would you care to join us?"

He turned his eye toward Watson. "I suppose I can fit you in."

#

The crime scene was still fresh. The area was cordoned off with traffic cones. There was a trace amount of glass on the floor, and though the display case didn't look too bad, it'd been disturbed.

Lara looked at the security cameras and they didn't look damaged, but she did notice that something was protruding from the base.

Indy and Dr. Watson examined the case. Watson stood in disbelief.

Watson paced around the room, regarding the event with a quiet despair. "This is not good."

Lara turned her attention to the case. "They have to be pros. They got in and out with minimal disturbance. I take it the cameras didn't pick up anything?"

Dr. Watson shook his head.

"It wouldn't," Indy replied. He pointed his cane at the cameras. "They are only designed for short range; that's why there's so many of them."

"That's right," Dr. Watson said. "Cost savings made it the most practical option."

"All you have to do is stick something up there to prevent the cameras from rotating and you can work uninterrupted," Indy said.

Lara examined the cameras up close. There were six total: four in each corner and two in the middle of the room. They were all still.

"How did they get the Spear out of the case? It's barely damaged."

"I don't think they did," Indy surmised.

"Why not?" Watson and Lara asked simultaneously.

"It's not what I would do."

#

Indy moved his cane to the hand-carved wooden box that the Spear sat in. He moved his walking aid along the edges of the box and came to a stop near the middle.

Watson and Lara leaned in to see what Indy was pointing at. "I don't see a thing," Watson admitted.

"I just see a scratch," Lara said. "What the point?"

"Follow it," Indy suggested.

Lara's eyes saw the crack extend all the way to the ground. She sat down (had to in the dress) and saw a small opening in the bottom of the box. "They cut it from the inside!"

"Precisely what I'd do," Indy said.

"Indy, I never took you for the sort," Watson proffered.

"Alternative methods become the norm when the body lags behind the mind."

"So it has to be an inside job," Watson said.

"Or someone who has access to the building."

"The guards," Lara chimed in.

"Beg your pardon?"

"The guards in the Reading Room. They looked a bit...aggressive. I've never seen a guard that intense."

Watson's expression soured. "There shouldn't have been guards in the Reading Room. They should've been patrolling outside."

"We'd better get started if we're going to catch them," Lara said.

"We have time," Indy replied. Lara and Watson shot him incredulous looks. "Whoever did this will leave as the others leave. Most likely they'll have bags to transport the Spear so they'll have to cover it with coats."

Indy looked at them. "But as long as drinks are flowing, people will stay."

#

Lara and Watson descended the stairs and returned to the Reading Room. Indy got off the elevator and joined them, albeit slowly. Lara wondered if he was really that slow or if he just pretended to be.

Indy looked past her towards the crowd. Lara joined him in this effort. The room still teemed with people, conversation, and booze.

"Have you noticed the guards, Lara?" Indy inquired.

She didn't. Lara turned her attention to them and saw hunched over and distracted men. "_Those_ are security guards."

Indy nodded. "So they're out of that disguise. Terrence, do you employ maintenance at this hour?"

"Not since we prepped for renovation. Why?"

"Maintenance men usually have trucks with storage space."

Watson and Lara smiled. "I can check the log," Watson left Lara and Indy. Silence reigned for a few moments, until Indy gazed at the Reading Room ceiling.

"A beautiful place," Indy remarked.

"Indeed."

"As I understand it, it'll be even more so because of you."

"This place was important to my father," Lara explained. "I'd never forgive myself if I didn't help them out."

"This room reminds me of Topkapi Palace in 1922," Indy recalled.

"You've been to Topkapi Palace?"

"It had just been turned into a museum," Indy said. "Some of Islam's most devout followers were upset that they were putting the Sacred Trusts in there for infidels to see. They stole the autographed letter of Mohammmed. I helped recover it."

"Really?" This man amazed Lara. He was much more than an academic. First, the Spear of Destiny and now the Sacred Trusts of Islam? Next he'd probably tell her he found the Ark of the Covenant. "I'd love to hear the rest of that story sometime."

"I'd be honored."

Watson rejoined them. "Three men came in earlier to prep the grid shell roof, but everything is set for work to begin."

"Then we have to start there," Lara said.

"They're done with that," Indy replied. "We should try the old maintenance closet underneath the Ford Centre."

"Indy, there are no secret levels here," Lara told him. "I should know. I've been coming here most of my life."

"How did you know about those?" Watson asked Indy.

"I was the last one to use it with any regularity," Indy explained.

#

They accessed the secret level by using an old key housed in a display case in Watson's office. He was always told that it was one of the first keys used in the museum. That was just a cover for the truth: During World War II and the bombing of London, the British Museum and its relics were considered a target of interest for the Nazis. While working with the OSS, Indy and his British partner, George "Mac" McHale, helped store the priceless artifacts in the secret chamber, replacing them with carefully detailed replicas. The room was locked by a key modeled after one from the museum's early days.

Indy instructed Watson to remove the gold plate on the wall, which was a decoy. There were two keyholes behind it. Watson inserted the key and turned it left. A door slid open.

Dr. Watson was more amazed than Lara was. He knew of the room but was under the impression it was closed off after World War II.

Indy's hunch was right. The room was indeed being used. Discarded security uniforms as well as tools littered the floor.

Adrenaline coursed through Lara's veins. What started out as a boring evening blossomed into an adventure.

"I'll go get my things," she said.

"I wouldn't do that," Indy replied. Lara stopped and turned in one fluid motion.

"Why not?"

"They're expecting people dressed for a black tie affair. If they see you in anything but that lovely gown, they'll get suspicious and we could lose them and the Spear."

"I have to agree, Lara," Watson seconded.

He's right, though Lara, but she wasn't happy about it. She didn't look forward to spending the next couple of hours in her dress. Not to mention what her shoes were doing to her feet.

She would share her displeasure with whoever stole the Spear.

Lara let her anger melt away as they boarded the elevator. Indy and Watson made sense. She had a chance to recover something lost. And there were people upstairs. She didn't want to put them at risk, especially when they were there to celebrate her.

Fortunately she had a single magnum strapped to her right leg just above the slit in her dress. She thought about adding a knife when she dressed up, but Lara figured it overkill. Now, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

They returned to the ground floor and made their way to the entrance of the Reading Room. Watson procured a couple of two-way radios from security and gave one to Indy. The guards were instructed to be on alert and up their patrols.

They went over the plan: Watson and Lara would walk around under the pretense of a tour of the museum's new pieces. Indy would cover the opposite end of the room and if they noticed anything, click the page button. Two security guards patrolled the room as well, doing their best to look bored.

Lara looked over at Indy, curious to why he examined a document on the wall. He had an unusual way of doing things, but it worked so far.

Watson's radio beeped and Lara quickly walked to Indy. She looked at the object on the wall and saw it was a museum map. "Find something?" She asked.

"Is there anyone guarding this area?" Indy pointed to the Upper Floor on the map.

Watson looked at the map. "No."

"Good place to hide then. I just saw four men hurry out of this room as the guards walked past them."

Lara took off before Watson could reply.

"Lara, wait!" Watson pleaded.

Not a chance, she thought to herself. There was no way she was letting the Spear get away again. By the time Scotland Yard got involved, the item could be buried in the Middle East. Dr. Watson abhorred violence and Indy may have been a good fighter once, but what could he do now? The onus was on her to find it. Lara took the lift to the Upper Floor. She unclipped the holster on her thigh, ready for anything.

The lift doors opened and Lara went into a defensive stance. Nothing moved and it was quiet. Her heels made a clack-clack sound that echoed through the Upper Level. She winced. She bent down to remove her shoes but heard men talking.

Lara made a beeline for the ladies' room. She cursed herself at being so eager to recover the Spear she let it overcome her better judgment. Lara leaned against a wall.

She listened close as she thought she could make out muffled conversation. Lara removed her shoes and exited the ladies' room. The talking came from the men's room. She tried to open the door, but a handsome Mediterranean man in a tux beat her to it. His brown eyes were serious and piercing.

"Oh!" Lara exclaimed. "I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"What do you want?" The man inquired with a slight accent. Lara thought he resembled a playboy.

"I came up here to use the loo. Bloody lines are so long."

She tried to walk in, but the playboy blocked her path. He snapped his fingers and muttered in Italian. One of his colleagues handed him a roll of toilet paper which he passed to her.

"Thank you very much. You're a life saver."

He nodded and shut the door. Lara caught a glimpse of a large duffel bag and a pair of coveralls.

She hustled back to the ladies' room entering the second stall and closing the door. She removed the gun from her holster and turned the safety off. One thing her adventures taught her was to be prepared for anything. She knew the men in the bathroom were expecting to be alone. Only an employee or a snoop would come up here, and Lara didn't doubt that either were expendable.

Sure enough, the ladies' room door opened seconds later. Lara watched the wing-tipped shoes enter and move at a deliberate pace.

Lara gripped her gun. She noticed a considerable space between the stall wall and the stall door. She didn't move, not wanting to betray that she was on to him. To sell the illusion, she began humming.

The shoes stopped and Lara heard his gun click, despite the man's best efforts to conceal it.

Lara followed the man's footsteps as he got near the second stall door. Her gun was ready.

He stepped closer.

Lara ceased humming.

The man stopped at the first stall. The guy seemed smarter than Lara gave him credit for. She had to get him first. She twirled the toilet paper roll to continue the masquerade.

The man continued onto her stall.

Lara held her breath.

One foot stepped in front of the stall.

Lara lined up her shot.

A big black blur appeared in the space between the door and the stall wall.

Lara fired.

The man, Mediterranean like his colleague, stumbled and fell to the ground. He growled and aimed at Lara's knee.

Lara leapt onto the toilet seat, thankful the museum put a seat cover in their restrooms. Two shots cracked the porcelain.

Lara jumped off the toilet and grabbed the top of the stall door. Lara whipped the gun around and drilled two bullets into the man's chest. The gun fell from his hand.

Lara left the stall and checked the man for ID. He didn't have any.

She heard muffled arguing and the clicking of weapons, so she readied for an assault, taking refuge in the last stall.

The attack never came. Instead, she heard the door open and the clack-clack-clack of something thrown into the room and rolling toward her. Lara leapt out of the stall and saw a smoke grenade. It went off before she could grab it and dispose of it. Lara coughed. She covered her mouth with paper towels and exited the bathroom, diving to the ground.

Lara breathed a sigh of relief at the empty hallway. These people had respect for artifacts, so they'd do their best not to fight and risk damage.

Watson reached the top of the stairs, panting heavily. He turned pale when he saw Lara and the smoke.

"Lara! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just a smoke grenade in the loo."

"Oh dear."

"Did you see them?"

"Who?"

"The men. Did you see them?"

"What men?"

"The men who set off the bloody grenade, Terrance!"

"I didn't see anyone up here."

"Perfect," Lara said. "We have to keep an eye on the elevators. Give me your radio."

Watson complied. It beeped before Lara could use it.

"Yes?"

"They're upstairs in the Reading Room," Indy whispered on the other end. "The guards are watching, over."

"We'll be right there, over," Lara grabbed Watson and they rushed into the elevator. She took a deep breath before putting her heels back on.

#

Indy stared into the reflective glass of an Egyptian mini-statue when Lara and Watson joined him. Lara noticed that he was keeping an eye on the RARITEES team.

"They're trapped," Indy said. "The guards are at all of the exits. I think they're planning a diversion to escape."

"What do we do?" Watson asked.

"Did you call the police?" Indy inquired.

"Yes, they're on their way."

Indy turned to Lara. "Then we just need to keep them here."

She nodded and started for the RARITEES group, careful to stay out of sight. As the men walked about, Lara saw the partygoers starting to get suspicious of these men and the big duffel bag they were carrying. That could have a bad ending. With alcohol in their system, there could be a higher chance of panic.

Lara moved closer to the men. Indy went as fast as his near-century old body could go. Watson stayed by his side. She hated doing this to them, but she knew they'd agree it was more important to recover the Spear.

Lara stepped behind a Babylonian era sculpture encased in three-inch-thick glass. She danced around it as her targets moved. She didn't see the studious and attractive blonde come up next to her, pen and pad in hand.

"Lady Croft?"

Lara whipped around to see the woman standing there. She, too, was flattering in a midnight blue evening gown. It controlled her fine curves, but the look in the woman's face made it clear she didn't want to compare designers.

"Emily Butcher, Daily Telegraph." She offered a hand that Lara reluctantly accepted.

"What can I do for you?" Lara asked, feigning interest.

"First of all, I'd like to congratulate you on your award. How does it feel to be recognized for preserving history for the United Kingdom's future generations?"

"Well, Miss?"

"Butcher."

"Miss Butcher, I don't really have time for an interview. I'm –"

"Looking at an artifact donated by your father, as well as ignoring the guests who've come out to honor you?"

"I'm not – I'm in the middle of something here, for the museum I might add, so no comment."

"Would you care to comment on the fact that this award is for your father's philanthropy, when the artifacts you claim to find are rumored to end up in your private collection?"

"No I wouldn't."

"Is there –-"

"Look, Miss Butcher, I said no comment. Keep talking and I'll be forced to defend myself from a harassing journalist."

Lara stared the reporter down. If Emily was afraid, it didn't show.

A security guard accompanied Watson and Indy. "Is there a problem, Countess?" Watson asked.

"No. Miss Butcher and I are done."

Emily left in a huff and Lara refocused her attention on the RARITEES men, who were now gone.

"They couldn't have gone far," Indy said.

Lara strode over to Emily, startled by the Countess's presence. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. I—-"

"Want to be painted in a positive light."

"In the middle of something, as I stated. If you want a story, stick around. I promise you'll get one."

Lara left the Reading Room and walked around the foyer. When she passed the coat check, the employee held out her coat.

"Calling it a night, Miss?"

Lara ignored him as she continued on. Watson joined her in the foyer, whispering instructions to the guard at his side.

"This floor is secure, Terrence."

"We've got guards on every floor now."

"Every floor?"

"Except the Ford Centre. We're cleaning it."

Lara rolled her eyes and took off.

"What?" Watson asked.

Indy was already on the elevator when Lara arrived. She tried to join him, but Indy stuck out his cane.

"What are you doing?" Lara queried.

"They'll be expecting you to come this way. They'll think nothing of an old man wandering."

"Good idea."

"And Lara? You might want to take off your shoes. I can hear them a mile away. They're the only thing I can hear a mile away."

He winked as the doors closed. Lara wasn't going to argue. She grabbed her magnum, released the safety and descended the stairs.

Lara trekked through the Clare Education Centre, stationed directly below the Reading Room. She hugged the wall in front of the Ford Centre.

On the opposite entrance to the Ford Centre, where the cleaning scaffolding stood, Lara watched Indy exit the elevator. If he saw her, Indy didn't betray it. He was looking for something.

"Marion? Marion?"

Lara watched as he disappeared inside one of the project rooms, still calling for Marion.

Lara leaned out and saw one of the RARITEES men follow Indy into the cafeteria. She snuck over to the Ford Centre entrance and hid as they walked. Moments later, two of them carried Indy out of the Ford Centre. Lara noticed one as the same man she encountered in the bathroom.

"Get lost, old timer!" The man exclaimed as he put Indy down.

"Have you seen Marion?"

"No, now please leave."

They turned and headed back inside the Ford Centre. Indy headed for the elevator, still shouting.

Lara crouched, frozen in place, as the men disappeared. Indy turned and nodded to her. She walked into the Centre, gun ready.

She checked the projection room. It was empty.

Creaking noises filled her ears and Lara tread carefully toward the noise, centered in the cafeteria. She found the RARITEES men there, huddled around the window. The shortest of them climbed on the windowsill and looked down.

Lara ran toward them, hurling her shoes at the short man. He ducked to avoid them, but his momentum carried him out of the window. He screamed as he fell. He hit the ground outside with a thud.

Playboy ran over and looked outside the window. "Pedro!" He turned to Lara. "You!"

"I'll take the Spear now," Lara said.

"Over my dead body," the man replied.

"If that's they way you want it."

The henchman next to the leader, who Lara thought resembled a bear, lifted a gun to Lara's head. She kicked it out of the Bear's hand and followed it up with a quick fist to his chest. The henchman fell backwards, smacking his head on the sink.

Playboy tried to pistol-whip her, but Lara dodged. He spun and kicked her in the abdomen and she fell into a table. Playboy followed with a forearm to her jaw. Lara grunted.

"So that's how we're gonna play?" She countered with a kick to the knee and an elbow to Playboy's temple. He fell to the floor and Lara went in for the knockout. Before she could strike, Bear grabbed her from behind. Lara struggled but couldn't break free from Bear's half-nelson.

Playboy stood up and slapped Lara in the face. "It is because of people like you that we are looked at as violent. We just want our history to stay where it belongs."

"So stealing them and destroying their sites accomplishes that goal?"

"They must be protected from the likes of you. You are an obstacle that needs removing."

The leader swung a fist, but it didn't strike Lara. She kicked Bear in the knee and leaned forward. The punch hit Bear's chin and he dropped her. Playboy shoved his colleague aside and dove at Lara. She took his momentum as she hit the floor and kicked him off her body. Lara leapt to her feet in time to block Bear's knife attack.

Lara caught a glimpse of Indy watching the proceeding behind Bear. He turned and headed for the elevator.

"Perfect," Lara grunted as she held Bear off.

The knife inched closer to her chest. Bear gave her a wicked smile and he went for the kill. Rather than fight Bear's momentum, Lara stepped aside and twisted the knife upward. Bear fell forward and Lara tripped him to ensure he'd go down. Bear fell onto the knife.

Lara rolled onto the ground and recovered her magnum, aiming at the Playboy, now on his knees. He took two steps forward and Lara released the hammer.

"Move again and I'll pull this trigger."

"Really?" Playboy asked. He leaned forward and grabbed his duffel bag, raising it to his chest. "You'll risk damaging the spear?"

"If it means keeping it from you, yes," Lara replied.

"I don't believe you. We're not that different. We both are students of history. We both want the past preserved."

"We are nothing alike," Lara retorted.

"Yes we are. The only difference is the fact that you are willing to steal history from those who made it so your fellow Englishmen don't have leave their comfortable world. I'm leaving with the Spear. You can shoot me and I may perish, but the _Spear_ _will as well."_

He moved for her. Lara's trigger finger twitched, but did nothing else as he walked past her. She waited until he got on the elevator and then ran up the stairs.

Lara heard the elevator bell go off as she descended the last flight of steps. Guests were leaving, so she holstered her magnum.

She reached the elevator in time to see Playboy exit. She didn't see Indy standing next to it, but she did see Playboy trip over Indy's cane. The duffel went flying, landing into Watson's breadbasket.

Lara stood above Playboy. He crawled backwards and stood up, running for the front door. He opened it two London constables pushed him back in. He threw his hands up and they cuffed him.

#

Lara, Indy and Watson, along with a crowd of onlookers, watched as the constables led the RARITEES ringleader out.

"Man's name is Paolo Gianni," Watson read from a report. Lara took it from him.

"His people did the exact opposite of what archaeology was meant for," Indy offered. "They spat on their own mission statement."

Lara nodded in agreement. Some said the same about her, but hopefully her actions tonight would convince people otherwise.

"Countess Croft? Countess Croft?"

Lara saw Emily Butcher weed her way through the crowd. "What artifact did you prevent from theft this evening?"

Before she could answer, Watson stepped in, handing her the duffel bag. "Your things, Countess."

He faced Emily. "As museum curator, I am authorized to answer all of your questions."

Lara smiled and turned to Indy. "I want to thank you for a pleasant evening, Dr. Jones."

"My pleasure, Countess," Indy said, doffing his fedora. "Most fun I've had since Peru in 1957."

"I'd love to hear about it."

"I'd be honored."

"Would you mind sharing my car? It's been a long night."

"I'm afraid I'm not staying anywhere near Surrey."

"It'd be my pleasure to drive you wherever you need to go."

"In that case," Indy said, "I accept." He offered his arm and she took it. "Your shoes seem to be missing."

"No, they're where they belong." She looked at the garbage can and they shared a laugh as they left the museum.

Emily Butcher, meanwhile, scribbled shorthand as she listened to Dr. Watson.

"We will have to painstakingly examine the piece."

"And what was the artifact again?"

Watson chuckled. "Nice try, Miss Butcher. As I said, due to an exclusivity agreement with the owner of the piece, we cannot disclose what the relic is until our marketing period, which is three weeks before display. Though, given what it's been through this evening, I doubt it has come through its ordeal unscathed. I fear it may never go on display."

#

Indy and Lara shared a glass of wine in the limo. The Spear was situated on the floor in between them, lying on top of the duffel.

"I still can't believe Terrence gave this to me," Lara revealed. "If word gets out –"

"It won't," Indy said. "This Spear, if used incorrectly, could destroy mankind. It needs to be looked after by people who understand its power. You are one of those people, Lara. It'll be safe in your hands."

Lara smiled and watched as he sipped his wine. This remarkable man, Dr. Henry Jones, Junior, had piqured her curiosity, hard to do if you weren't a 2,000 year old pot.

"Indy, I want to give you an open invitation to Croft Manor. I'd very much enjoy your company."

"That'd be lovely my dear," Indy replied. "If you don't mind an old buffoon filling in the holes in your travel books."

"Holes? I can't wait to hear those!"

"And I can tell you stories about your father. This is my stop!" Indy shouted to the driver. Lara walked Indy to the porch.

"Your home is beautiful," Lara said.

"It belonged to Mac. I stay here whenever I'm in London."

"Well, Indy, thank you again for a splendid evening."

"Thank you, Lara, for giving an old man one last adventure."

They parted, each one knowing they'd see more of one another. The Writer and the Professor. Their adventures were just beginning.

THE END


End file.
